Roomies
by Doctor Spock
Summary: Loki desperately needs a roomate - Enter Tom, an annoying Midgardian with an obnoxious laugh and an even worse sense of humour.
1. Chapter 1

Loki Laufeyson had a problem.

Well. Loki Laufeyson had several problems, most of them stemming from the fact that he was _Laufey_son, not _Odin_son, but he had one particular problem: he needed a flatmate.

Loki shuddered to even think of his situation. Here he was, a god, stuck powerless on Midgard without the means to maintain a living space. And to be ... _dependant_ on a human to help him out. A stranger. Because while Loki obviously knew several humans, none of them liked him. Apparently trying to liberate Earth from freedom didn't put you in anyone's good books.

Shame, really. He was only trying to help. Sort of.

Honestly, though, Loki knew he was lucky that SHIELD didn't track him down and stick him in a guillotine. They still had those, right? Guillotines? It was such a delightful method of murder, Loki couldn't imagine the humans rendering them obsolete.

Perhaps he would obtain one for himself. Yes, that would be a nice decoration for the main room of his shabby apartment. Except the he didn't have the means of procuring one ... which was his problem in the first place.

Loki needed a roommate. To help pay his rent. How terribly demeaning.

An ad was placed on the "list of Craig" via what the humans called the internet. For two and a half weeks, the ad sat there, lonely and unanswered, until an aspiring actor by the name of Tom volunteered himself.

Loki did not like the sound of Tom. But he had three days before rent was due and there were no other opotions.

And so it came to pass that Loki Laufeyson and Tom Hiddles became flatmates.

Loki had been sitting in the tiny Midgardian apartment for only half an hour before Mr. Hiddles opened the door with the key the landlord had given him. The sight of a great and (once) powerful Asgardian god must have been too much for his body, because Tom fell to the ground, his body shaking.

"... Mortal?" Loki asked, tentatively coming up to the fallen human. Tom wasn't in pain; he was laughing.

The human's bright blue eyes were watering, his grin spreading from ear to ear. And his laugh was ... well ...

"Ehehehehe! I wasn't expecting -" He had to gasp for air.

"I - I'm not quite sure I understand."

"I knew your name was Loki Laufeyson -" Tom paused for air again, "but I wasn't expecting - _this!_"

Loki simply stood for a moment, staring at the human before turning about with a swish of his long, green cape and plopping himself on the lawnchair in the center of the otherwise barren room with a sigh. "I do not possess any other clothing."

Tom was laying on his back, clutching his sides and gazing upside-down at the leather-and-metal-clad Asgardian.

"Well, we're going to have to change that," he said, propping himself up against the wall, "because," and he gasped for breath before breaking out, once more, into laughter, "you look _ridiculous_!"

Loki stood, befuddled. And a bit insulted. "This is the clothing of gods, you insolent toad."

Tom again fell to the ground. "Right - still need a new wardrobe. You're not ... you're not going to Comicon!"

Loki tilted his head slightly. "I - I do not understand. Comicon...?"

"Nothing," Tom waved it away with a swish of his hand. "So ... you're not - your accent, I mean - you're not from around here, are you?"

Loki simply shook his head.

"Neither am I!" Tom enthused before falling into an expectant silence. "Soooo," he continued when Loki did not say anything, "Where are you from?"

"I am - I am of Asgard," Loki admitted in a low voice.

Tom nodded in a "knowing" manner. "Yes. Asgard. Uhm ... remind me again, where is that? Norway?"

"I ..." Loki gave the human a condescending glance before conceding slowly. "Ye-es. In the northern reaches of the realm."

Nodding once again, Tom stood and walked to the lawnchair, extending a hand. "Well, Loki of Asgard, I am Tom of Britain. I suppose we'll be living together for a while. So. We really need some proper furniture."

He looked once again around the apartment. The living area, which connected directly to the hallway, was a small, simple, four-walled room. On the far side was a doorway with no door, which led to the kitchen, and two doors on one wall led to the single bedroom and dinky bathroom. It was clearly not built to house two people, but it would have to do.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Tom strolled over to the bedroom. "Bit of an undersized place. And let me guess ... judging by the lawnchair, I'm going to say you've been sleeping on a cot, haven't you?" He opened the door and peered into the room. "Yep. Nailed it. Well, it's lucky I have a sleeping bag, because that lawnchair doesn't look very inviting for the night."

Loki glanced at Tom then back to the floor. "You may sleep wherever you like. I don't care. I do not intend to spend any more time than necessary in these quarters. Please don't consider these arrangement to hold any amount of permanence."

* * *

**Ooookay. I saw a post on tumblr and the cogs in my brain started turning and this happened. I don't know if I plan to continue with it or not, sooo ... tell me what you think? And maybe I'll write more?**

**Also disclaimer: Avengers, Loki, etc = not mine. No moneys**


	2. Chapter 2

**Woah. People ... actually ... liked that? Okay. Well. Two weeks later and y'all are getting another chapter! So...yay?**

**I do not own Loki. Um. Yeah. Enjoy?**

**Also, I'm way too lazy to read back through this and make sure there are no typos. So. Be patient, but don't hesitate to call them out either!**

* * *

Four days after Tom moved in and settled all his belongings (which consisted of one sleeping bag, three outfits, and a laptop), Loki walked into the apartment to find the human lounging on a ratty couch, staring at a small television.

"Where'd all this come from?" he asked, stepping tentatively into the room.

"Dumpster," Tom replied, patting the couch. "And sister," he continued, pointing at the television.

"But ... why?" Loki demanded, moving behind the couch. His lawnchair had been relocated to a lonely corner near the kitchen.

"Living commodities!" Tom exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Basic objects that are essential for ensuring our continued survival. I also got a coffeemaker - actually bought it at Wal Mart, and it was rather cheap, which is good, because I haven't too much money, but it only make a single cup at a time, but that's a rather minor drawback. Anyway - " and his features twisted themselves into a devilish grin - "Your name is Loki - "

"Are these items really necessary for ... erm, _survival?_" the Asgardian interrupted.

"Absolutely," Tom replied. "How can you go even a day without a proper cup of coffee?" When the only response he received was a blank stare, his eyes widened to nearly twice ther normal size. Couple with his mane of ginger curls, the expression was truly frightening. "_You've never had coffee before_, have you? Good God, how desperately deprived the Norwegians must be. Come on," and he grabbed Loki by the arm and dragged him out of the apartment. "We must culture you."

Once the two were planted firmly in line at the nearest Starbucks (less than a block away), Tom turned to Loki, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Not for the first time since the two met - and had it really been only four days? It felt like Tom had been a thorn in Loki's side for much longer - Loki found himself plotting the human's death. Try as he might, the god just couldn't get his roommate to leave him alone. So he fixed Tom with a menacing glare, hoping the latter would remain quiet.

Tom didn't even twitch.

"You're _Loki_, right?"

Loki sighed internally and spoke with the voice he reserved for especially ignorant children and Thor. "I thought this had already been established. Yes. I am Loki, and you are Tom."

"No, I mean..." Tom clearly had been meaning to say whatever it was for quite a while, because his whole body was quivering as he spoke. "Your name is _Loki._ That's the god of mischief, right? The trickster?"

Loki nodded slowly, not quite liking where this thread was headed. Tom didn't secretly work for SHIELD, did he? "That is correct..."

Tom grinned impishly. "So do you play pranks and stuff on people? With your name and demeanor, you could probably get away with anything."

"I ... have been known to - "

Loki was cut off by the bored looking woman behind the counter. "Next."

Ton stepped up, all but sidelining Loki. "I'll have a venti half-caf light iced nonfat four pump caramel machiatto. And he will have ..." He took a moment to appraise his roomate. "Just a coffee. Black, one sugar."

The shit-eating grin never left Tom's face as he and Loki waited for the unimpressed barista to assemble their drinks. Loki kept quiet and tried (and succeeded, mind you) not to fidget uncomfortably. He was a god, dammit! No mere mortal had the right to fix him with such a humbling gaze.

He was startled out of his determined not-fidgeting by the emergence of a paper cup filled with a steaming, murky brown liquid. The colour appeared rather unappetizing, although the scent did something to combat that. He glanced at Tom, who gave him an encouraging little nod over the green straw he was sucking on.

So Loki took a sip.

Several days later, Tom was preparing for something or other, and Loki was preparing his sixth cup of coffee that day. As he tried to drink it, however, he found that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He couldn't even swallow the abomination that was meant to be a relatively decent cup of coffee.

"MORTAL!" he called, beckoning Tom into the kitchen area. "There's something _wrong_ with your coffeemaker."

As Tom started giggling hysterically, Loki tried very hard to not throw the cup, along with the revolting liquid it held, at the human's head. "It's not the coffeemaker," Tom laughed. "It's the sugar! I replaced it with salt! You've just been _Loki'd. LOKIIIII'D!"_


End file.
